


Deeper

by charcoalscenes



Series: learning curves [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Light BDSM, M/M, Master/Pet, Nudity, Other, Pet Names, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 02:29:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13672386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charcoalscenes/pseuds/charcoalscenes
Summary: "It wasn’t until Astral saw what Yuma and 96 shared – what they still share – what 96 can make Yuma do, how they make each other feel, that Astral felt with a blinding realization: This is what I want. This is who I want."Astral and Yuma practice. Human AU





	Deeper

**Author's Note:**

> not real heavy but heavier than the last one, so please mind the tags in case!

It takes practice from both sides. Astral told 96 as much even as they were both children, still some semblance of close and familial under what was then a better relationship between their two caretakers. “It’s a lot of responsibility.” Astral had said, as much willing to prove themself as intelligent then as they often are now. 

96 scowled, stubbornly silent, but Astral pushed with the same words Eliphas had told them. “Pets aren’t easy to have. You need lots of patience. They need lots of training. We don’t know how to be responsible yet.” 

“Speak for yourself!” 96 shot back. “When are we going to be  _ responsible enough _ ? When we’re old? Once I have a pet, I’ll learn to take care of it. That’s the only way to learn: to just do it!” 

It’s something both 96 and Yuma have in common, Astral thinks, the two of them preferring to jump into situations before thinking. Astral has witnessed first-hand how the couple prefer to feel out new experiences rather than observe from afar beforehand, heedless of failure or adverse consequences – much to Astral’s opposite. 

Maybe that’s why it took Astral so long to approach him. Maybe that’s also part of their learning about Yuma, why seeing him during the brief time he and Kotori attempted to date didn’t invoke the same feelings that seeing him and 96 together does. Yuma and Kotori had been borderline romantic, falling into more platonic affections until, in the end, they realized that the latter is what felt more natural to them. Though Astral had felt jealousy spring up inside them then, it was a convenient time when their little group was growing up – and apart – Astral spending more time studying or working, distracted, and Yuma wandering into a path of his own. 

It wasn’t until Astral saw what Yuma and 96 shared – what they still share – what 96 can make Yuma do, how they make each other feel, that Astral felt with a blinding realization:  _ This is what I want. _ This is who I want. 

Like this. Yuma uses the keys Astral gave him to open their door, letting himself in. “Hello?” 

“I’m here.” Astral answers, standing from their computer to meet with Yuma at the front. Yuma puts his keys down in the basket by the door and pries the gloves from his fingers to place them there as well. Astral comes up behind him, and he peers up in reply before allowing them to help remove his coat. “How are you?” Astral asks. “How was your day?” 

“Cold.” Yuma bites, giving an imitation of chattering teeth. Astral huffs and hangs his coat by the door. “Did you go out at all today? You’re looking real cozy in here, with your heater and that dumb turtleneck. You might as well get a fireplace installed and complete the look.” 

“I have an artificial fireplace.” Astral quips. “You know that. I can set up a fake fire for us if you’re in the mood.” 

“Maybe break out the candles, and the wine.” Yuma adds. By all means, Astral has those too, but keeps quiet about it for now and lets Yuma carry on. “Ah…” He starts, suddenly unsure. “…You said I can just come here unannounced. So, here I am! …It’s really okay, right?” 

He hasn’t always been good at doing what he’s told, but it’s something Yuma has improved in over the years, though he still struggles to decide what orders to follow and what to defy. Astral sees it in the way he handles 96. They see what to do in order to entice Yuma into doing what they see and feel as  _ right _ . 

“Of course.” Astral smiles. Like tending to a rose; Yuma’s cheeks bloom just a tinge with newfound color. Astral takes the reward of heated flesh and reaches up, stroking Yuma’s cheek gently. “You’re cold. I can run you a warm bath.” 

“Wh– No!” Yuma flounders, taking a step back and into Astral’s home. “No, I don’t need that.” 

“It wouldn’t be a problem.” Astral assures, then gestures for Yuma to follow them towards the hallway. “Let me give you some clothes to wear, at least. Will you be staying for a night, like I asked?” 

Yuma mumbles. “Uhm. Yeah.” A beat later, Astral hears his footsteps trail behind them, shuffling and shy, tepid compared to Yuma’s usual boisterous confidence. Again, there’s the sense of something that’s always been inside of Astral prying its way out, like something hidden slowly unhinging the door that’s been trapping it. What would it be like to hear Yuma’s steps follow dutifully behind them everyday into their bedroom? What could Yuma be like if Astral could have him stay with them here forever? 

Astral takes out a pair of cotton pants and a sheer shirt for Yuma to wear that they’d picked out recently, soon after Yuma and them had finally made an official agreement to  _ try _ . 

“Take off your clothes.” Astral says as soon as Yuma enters the room. 

For Yuma’s sake, Astral tries to appear as nonchalant as possible, their boy already looking tense and muddled enough for the both of them, but they don’t seem to have too great of an effect in calming him down; Astral’s stare is heavy and expectant, their excitement threatening to vibrate through them from below their thin facade. 

Yuma pauses, then looks to Astral directly. It’s a different look to him, eyes bright and knowing, peering shyly from under his lashes but meeting Astral’s bravely. Under the soft light, there’s a glint there that makes Astral think Yuma is searching for something, basing his next actions on whatever he finds in his subject. 

In answer, Astral sits on the bed, attentive and would-be leisurely, leaning back some, waiting. 

Yuma finally moves, walking closer to his partner and the outfit beside them while stripping off his shirt, pulling it over his head. 

“Stop.” Astral quietly snaps, and Yuma does, the fabric wrapped in his arms in front of him. He’s nearly gawking, confused, before Astral instructs, “Slowly, Yuma.” They smile, as slow as the shade of pink that spreads across his cheeks to his ears. “Do it slowly. And in front of me.” 

“Oh.” Yuma says. “Yeah…” His head hangs a little lower as he comes and settles right in front of Astral, like a dog with its ears pulled back and waiting in front of its master. Astral is tempted to do something, reach to help Yuma undress, or place their own arm over their legs to cover what is now a rising issue, but they do neither. Let Yuma see; let Yuma do this to them himself and see. 

Taking more time, he pulls the shirt from his arms, the long sleeves sliding from skin and light muscle and the small, thin hairs there before they’re off completely, and Yuma holds the cloth in his hand, uncertain. 

He catches the way Astral takes him in, raking his face and torso with an intensity that’s heated and silent, before averting his gaze, gripping the shirt in his hand tightly. 

“Keep going.” Astral prods, rapt at the sight of Yuma’s throat as he gulps. “Drop it. Keep going, Yuma.” 

Yuma’s hand snaps open, and he leaves his shirt discarded for now on the floor. Shoulders hunched, he goes for his belt, fidgety. 

It’s only after a few seconds that he notices how his fingers shake just enough to make the usually mundane task a tad more difficult. “Uhn…” He feels like he’ll be on the break of sweating. “S-Sorry…? Hold on…” 

Astral’s hand touches his, and then their other follows, stopping his movements effectively. 

He reigns his hands back, and then keeps them limp at his sides. Just centimeters from the skin of his stomach, Astral undoes the buckle of his belt, Yuma’s gut clenching above their fingers. 

In one harsh move, Astral tugs, hard and fast so the belt’s leather jerks from its metal holster, Yuma’s hips jerking forward a bit at the act. All the strength in Yuma’s legs seems to leave him, and his knees jerk, leaving him nearly stumbling forward and grabbing Astral’s shoulders to keep himself steady, shuddering and heavy in the area right below where Astral’s hands had hovered. 

“A-Astral…” 

But his partner’s arms ease back to their sides, though Yuma sees their fingers grip at their sheets, sees another part of their lover grow just as rigid and stiff directly below him. 

“Undress, Yuma.” They say, low and trembling, just as he is now between their spread legs. “Go on now.” 

All he wants to do is fall in a heap in front of them, messy and needy; have Astral take him by the shoulders or the hair and move him themself in whatever way they want to. Instead, he does as they say, taking a moment to ground himself from where he is over them, feeling Astral’s solid shoulders under his palms, the muscles tough and tight, and lets himself slide a bit away, making sure he can stand on his own again. 

As he removes the belt over each hook of his pants, Astral hums, similar to the sound they’d give in their classroom, a sign of approval that Yuma himself has always felt pleasure for when directed at him. “Hmm…” But it’s different now – deeper, a rumble. “Good boy.” 

He whines; the keen comes out before he can think to stop it, and after it passes, he feels himself cringe.  _ This is all it takes? _ –And already his knees won’t stay straight or steady. The belt clatters to the floor, and he uses his free hands to fist, bringing one to cover his mouth as though it would make up for the noise. 

Astral holds him again, taking his wrist and tugging it back down. “No.” They chastise. “Don’t do that.” 

Yuma’s hands are brought to his sides before Astral releases him. Less harshly, they stress, “Don’t ever do that.” There’s a wistfulness in their tone that Yuma’s never heard before, a daze in Astral’s lidded stare that’s new to him too. Then, in a typically Astral sort of way, they speak with arrogant surety. “You won’t hide that sort of thing from me.” 

As if in answer, a strangled sound comes from Yuma’s mouth, a sentiment wanting to come out but not knowing what form to take, what words with which to express the emotions that Astral inspires. 

Astral continues. “You’re being so obedient today.” They praise, and as though to demonstrate, they let themself soak in the sight of their shivering boy up and down, right to his pelvis, and the tent forming under his loosened pants – and just as expected, he stays still for them. “You’re being so good for me, giving me this. What you give to me is everything, Yuma.” They confess, then meet his gaze head on, an edge to their voice that holds a promise should he deny them the sentiment: “You will give me those reactions you’ll have to this too.” 

When the two of them had finally reconnected years after having drifted from the childhood friendship they shared, Astral’s haughtiness had often reminded Yuma of a pretentious king, the vanity they hold in regards to their own wits and abilities leaking through their words and the way they interacted with others – Yuma especially. He had mistook it as a peculiar sort of dislike that Astral had come to have for him, only later recognizing the attitude as simply Astral’s personality. 

After disconnecting their demeanor from his paranoia that they disliked him, he’d come not to hate it, and over time, even came to admire it. Astral acts every bit like a sort of ruler now, able to control Yuma, it seems, with just a pitch to their voice, or with just a few words. He swallows, and nods, his throat trapping a reply he doesn’t know how to give. 

But Astral tries to teach him even now. “Say it. That you understand.” 

It’s so similar to the firmness Astral has expressed in their tutoring sessions. The thought has Yuma embarrassed, his eyes flitting from Astral’s, and he mumbles, his words furiously uneven. “Y…Yes.” 

“Yes  _ what _ ?” 

“Yes…” He nearly squeaks, glad that he’s speaking low enough that it’s not too obvious. “I understand.” 

Rightly so, Astral sends him a dubious look, but he feels helpless to respond, hoping Astral won’t take any failings on his part, in this aspect, too personally – hoping Astral knows him well enough to recognize that the urge to restrain parts of his expressions is habitual, hard to break. Ever since Yuma had first realized, with another partner, that he likes this sort of dynamic –  _ fits this  _ – he sometimes feels like he’s been holding back and hiding these facets of himself his entire life. 

Astral hums thoughtfully. “Good.” Yuma starts to move to the hem of his pants, and stops short when Astral corrects him. “On your knees.” 

He gasps. He isn’t sure if it’s a startle or if it’s because of the same reason his whole body seems to quake at the demand. “What?” 

“Continue.” Astral says. There’s a reason their words have become short, clipped. Their breaths release just as heavily and as shallow as Yuma’s, the eagerness they have at this moment not allowing them to speak for more than mere short moments. They wonder what they would say if they force themself to speak for longer now. They wonder what they would blurt out, what praises and commands would escape past their control. For now, though, of their own will, they tell Yuma, “But do it, on your knees.” 

Yuma wheezes, long and throaty. The lilt of it nearly makes Astral hiss loudly, the reaction between their legs springing higher. When Yuma says their name, it sounds like begging, and their poor boy repeats it, not knowing what else to say. 

Astral leaves him like that, without help or further encouragement, as the mantra of their own name leaves his lips in prolonged, panting breaths. Stiffly, he sinks onto the floor in front of them, a helpless little thing. 

He won’t stop trembling now, the movements he makes to push his trousers down unable to be rushed even if he wished them to be. The naked skin of his thighs peek and tease at Astral between the cloth of his pants and boxers, and in retaliation, Astral scolds him. “I thought I told you to undress.” The hardness he bears from within his underwear rises just as his shoulders do at the snap. “And you agreed. Don’t cheat me out of this, Yuma.” 

Finally, Yuma is able to form something coherent, if still faint and jittery. “N-No…but…but, this is… Astral…” 

“ _ Pet. _ ” 

He looks up at last, the word some sort of trigger, and Astral can see his beat-red face, those parted lips, the eager look of his mouth and eyes, his tongue and gaze wet and looking ready to leak from what he’s going through – what they’re both going through, what  _ Astral _ is putting him through. They wonder if, down there, it’s also close to leaking. 

They voice their thoughts as soon as it finishes forming in their mind. “I won’t forgive you,” they confess, “if you spill yourself right there on my floor, and you didn’t even take those things off before you could show me. Do it or I’ll make you stain your clothes over and over again for what you would make me miss.” 

He doesn’t try to quiet his breathing anymore, taking in gulps of air and letting them out as he obeys, prying his boxers down, whimpering and freeing himself. Astral confirms their suspicions; Yuma is wet, glistening all over. His shoulders have never been so high near his ears, his back has never been so bent in Astral’s memory as how he is now, and missing seeing Yuma’s vibrant expressions already, Astral takes the matter into their own hands quite literally. 

They take hold of Yuma’s jaw, their boy yelping and pausing in his actions, and Astral cranes him, forcing him to face forward and up, his eyes wide and at last tearful over skin spread with a heady shade of pink. 

His pants and boxers crumple at his knees and thighs. Astral’s control of where to direct to his perspective flips a switch in Yuma, it feels like, the strength in his arms and legs dissipating and leaving him at once open, malleable. But still, Yuma’s fingers twitch with the impulse to cover himself, pull up his clothes over him and hide. He wonders if Astral notices. 

“How often have you been like this,” –the words leave Astral’s mouth so softly Yuma second-guesses if they’re speaking to him or simply voicing their own thoughts to themself– “with them? How often are you made to go on your knees, Yuma? What do you do?” 

He has grabbed at the hold 96 favors to keep on his throat; unlike with Astral, 96′s grip is often more tight, with just enough pressure that Yuma begins to worry that it’s risky, and often his hands would instinctually fly onto 96′s wrists, in the case he’d need to pull them back. But he never has. 

Out of habit, he sucks in another breath, leaving his mouth gaping open, his tongue stiff and tense,  _ ready _ , and in obvious display just behind his teeth.  **_This_ ** _ is what he does _ , the soaked muscle he shows seems to tease, and Astral recognizes his answer. 

“Oh. Yuma.” They coo, bringing the both of them closer. Both their hands stroke over him now, his face and neck, his hair combed with long and elegant fingers. “Would you? Would you do that for me too?” 

“Yes.” The answer is instantaneous, and, shocked at how  _ open _ his eagerness is showing, how easily Astral has pried him open, he turns, burying his face in Astral’s thigh. At least in this way, maybe Astral will allow him some semblance of a way to  _ hide _ . “Yes,” he whispers again. 

“I wish I thought to tie your wrists for this.” Astral muses. “At your back just the way you like it, so I could see you here like this. So I could tell you to use your teeth to do for me what you’ve gotten so good at doing. And you have, haven’t you?” 

_ But I still could. _ How much had 96 told them? How much has his other lover revealed and bragged, hanging Yuma over Astral’s head like a taunt before finally conceding to something even they could see that Yuma needs? 

In any other context, maybe, Yuma would be infuriated, cheated to be talked about so intimately behind his back. Maybe if this would have happened years ago, Yuma still would. But at this time in his life, with these two, knowing what his lovers discuss of him and accommodate for him, he doesn’t feel indignant. What he feels instead is closer to what is actually happening: he feels shared. 

He feels used, too, like this – hard and played with on Astral’s floor by their feet, and it’s not in the least bit distasteful to him. He is used like a cared for doll, like a favorite toy, like a sentimental object its owner can’t help but adore and stroke over and over again. 

“Sweet boy…” Just as people might admire the beauty of the sea and what’s beneath it to the point of leaning far enough over and risk falling in it themselves, so does Astral lean over, nuzzling and praising the one they call theirs. They had wanted to wait before doing this. They had wanted Yuma to be given all the things he deserves: time, wooing, gifts. 

They’d still give him all those things, but now, Astral feels the both of them called to this. Yuma can engulf them, surround them, the way Astral will eventually wrap a ring around his finger, a collar around his neck; he could take them in inside him with the lips Astral has been yearning to own for so, so long, even before they realized. 

Their fingers dig into his hair, raking his scalp, and with no more hesitation, Yuma is pulled closer to them, nearly nestled on Astral’s restrained girth – gaping. 


End file.
